


Really, Really

by makesomelove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesomelove/pseuds/makesomelove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Isn't this going to ruin your juice cleanse?" Niall says, almost uncontrollably, like a fucking idiot. There's nothing he wants more than his dick down Harry's throat, but damn if he can't help but get jabs in at Harry's lifestyle choices. Harry groans at being stopped, his eyes fuzzy and mouth open and slack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Really, Really

Niall is greeted on American soil with a long-fingered, ringed hand down the front of his pants. While after a long flight this is fourth on the list of things he wants after a shower, a cold beer, and a nap, he isn't going to complain. 

"I missed you," Harry says, snaking his way further into Niall's pants. It'd be so much easier to unbutton them, Niall thinks. Right now he just feels like a backwards puppet under Harry's control. 

"What did you miss about me?" Niall says. 

"Your face," Harry says, kissing Niall's face. "And your perky little bum and your cute little penis." 

"Great, that's just what every man wants to hear," Niall says. 

Harry ignores him and instead latches onto Niall's neck and kisses his way up and down and all around. His fingertips finally come into contact with Niall's cute, little, and very intrigued penis. Niall has the sensation that this is what it must feel like to have an octopus stuck to your neck and also to your dick. Niall sighs and acts like he's being annoyed out of his brains, but he lifts his chin up to give Harry better access to the sweet spots all the same. 

"Harry," Niall says. "Harry." 

"Niall, Niall," Harry mumbles back. 

"Can I put me bag down or are you going to make me hold it the entire time?" Niall says. "Like some sort of endurance test." 

He's missed Harry, too, perhaps more than he'd like to admit. Looking around Harry's sparsely furnished L.A. house is even making him feel like he's in a home away from home. Right next to the front door there's a robust, carved hat rack and a thing with clawed feet that holds umbrellas in its mouth, as if it ever rains in southern California. Out of the corner of his eye he can see a bowl on the kitchen table that looks like a nest made out of tarnished feathers cradling a variety of fruits. He could definitely do a shit in this house, is how at home he feels. 

Niall's been doing things on his own for weeks, having independent global romps and falling down alone. It's nice to be back in such familiar arms. Harry's mere presence is a silent bubble of comfort, and it's sickening and it's sweet, and he likes it. 

"Hold it the whole time," Harry says. "I want to know your strength. Could you hold me up while we made love?" 

"No," Niall says. 

"Fine, go on," Harry says, backing off suddenly and leaving Niall unsteady. "And take your shirt off while you're at it." 

"What about me hat?" Niall says. 

"Leave it on," Harry says in his best seductive voice, trailing his fingers down the center of Niall's chest. 

~*~ 

After much toil - listening to Harry's stories about what it's like to step in gum that's been reheated on the pavement by the sun and how many different types of dogs he's seen by description only because he doesn't know the name of any breeds, then 45 minutes of hard making out on the couch - Niall is finally in a bed alongside Harry. He nearly falls asleep as soon as his body hits the mattress, jet lag setting in sooner than he'd like, but Harry jerks his dick off until there's no chance he'd be able to sleep with a boner that crazy. 

Harry seems to be unable to stop putting his mouth all over Niall's skin. Niall is certain he's received a tender, loving kiss on every inch of his body - the new, sun-made freckles on his shoulders, the bony knuckles of his balled fist in Harry's hand, and most especially his mouth. He's been kissed everywhere but where he wants and he's becoming impatient. He's going to have to do something about it. 

"Aren't you still on a juice cleanse?" Niall says, lifting his head up to look at the top of Harry's head, where Harry is licking the scar of Niall's right knee. Niall makes a face, remembering it as a fresh cut, and imagining Harry licking it as it was then, stinging and bloody and gross. He'd probably do it, too, the sick bastard. 

"I am not _still_ on a juice cleanse, Niall. I am on a juice cleanse _again_ ," Harry says. "In fact, your face looks like a nice medium-rare steak." 

"That's just what my face looks like now," Niall says, lifting up his hat - which he's almost forgot he's got on - to really show off his features. "I've had some work done. Didn't you notice?" 

Harry laughs and slaps Niall's hip so quickly it makes Niall jump. He moves up, slides his naked upper body along Niall's naked lower body. He doesn't remember Harry being this fit, like hunky almost and built like a brick shithouse. Niall's thighs clench involuntarily. He would never be able to hold Harry up while they made love - Harry's words that Niall can't help but use because it makes him laugh - but Harry sure as hell could hold Niall up. 

"I'm gonna suck you off so hard your body is gonna turn inside out," Harry says. He positions himself between Niall's legs, arranging everything just how he'd like it to be. "Your insides are gonna be on your outside and your outsides are gonna be on your inside when I'm through with you." 

"How are you gonna suck me off if my dick is inside me?" Niall says. The question confuses him more as it comes out of his mouth. He was turned on enough to begin with, and for some reason, Harry's horrifying dirty talk does it for him even more. 

"Just watch," Harry says. He grabs a hold of Niall's dick and lowers his pink, soft lips to the tip of it. Just as they come into contact with one another, Niall grabs his shoulder. 

"Isn't this going to ruin your juice cleanse?" Niall says, almost uncontrollably, like a fucking idiot. There's nothing he wants more than his dick down Harry's throat, but damn if he can't help but get jabs in at Harry's lifestyle choices. Harry groans at being stopped, his eyes fuzzy and mouth open and slack. 

"Jizz is like a juice," Harry says. "Right? Like a savory juice. A dinner juice, if you will." 

"I won't," Niall says. "But if it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me." 

"I mean," Harry says, rubbing the tip of Nialls dick over his lips, almost aggressively, like he's putting lipstick on with it, "as long as I don't bite down and cannibalize your penis, I should be all right." 

"Please don't," Niall says. 

Harry moves his face away just so and snaps his teeth. Niall flinches so hard he knees Harry right in the tit and then laughs because Harry laughs. It's just nice to talk to Harry, to banter back and forth, easy and comfortable and fun. There's no thought behind it, really, which Niall loves. He can say whatever he wants and not be scrutinized, and Harry can say whatever he wants and knows he'll be heard for what he really means. 

Being back with Harry, specifically in bed with him, Niall's fondness for him blooms high in his chest. They all have their special relationships with one another, but with one of them gone and not immediately and constantly accessible to them, they're expanding and filling space in each other's hearts. It's like when one of your senses is dulled, the others become sharper and stronger. Niall sees Harry better and hears Harry better and feels Harry better, for whatever reason, and it's overwhelming and thrilling and so good. 

"Have I ever done a shit in your house?" Niall says. 

"I don't remember every shit you've ever done," Harry says, brow furrowed suspiciously, like he's being set up for a joke at his own expense. 

"Don't you?" Niall says. 

"Just some," Harry says. "Hey, with that hat on, could you like, do an old-timey paperboy voice?" 

"Hm?" Niall says. 

Harry pitches his voice high and cups his hand around the side of his mouth. "Extry! Extry! Read all about it! Your penis in my mouth!" 

Niall laughs so suddenly he sprays Harry's face with spit. He tosses the hat across the room dramatically like an angry frisbee while Harry protests. 

"Tell you what," Niall says, running his fingers through Harry's hair so it goes the opposite way it's supposed to. He knows his face is soft and stupid and he doesn't much care right now. "If you're good, and I mean really, really good, like inside-out body good, I'll go out and get you some steaks, and I'll grill them up for us. You have a grill, right?" 

"No," Harry says. 

Niall sighs. "It's okay. I'll sort something out." 

"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys," Harry says, almost to himself. 

Niall doesn't get a chance to understand why that sounds so familiar before his dick is engulfed in the sweet heat of Harry's mouth. After a few blissful moments, Niall discovers that isn't quite what he wants, even though it feels like he's been waiting on it forever. He interrupts Harry's ministrations and Harry is not happy about it, but he lets Niall pull him up to lay over him. 

"Like this," Niall says, his fingers coming into contact with the wet tip of Harry's dick. 

Harry follows his lead without another question, his fingers curling around Niall's dick firmly and getting fast to work. Harry's favorite sex move is disturbingly intimate, unbroken eye contact, the intensity of which rubs Niall's soul raw and turns it transparent and real for any who would look to see. He tries his best to make Harry blink, to get him to shut his eyes, his fingers tight and fast, gathering the wetness from the tip of Harry's dick and making it a fast and easy slide.

"I love this so much," Harry says, mouth open and panting hot on Niall's cheek. "I wish you could put your entire hand inside my dick." 

"Don't say that," Niall says, but it's too late to cover up the shiver he gets from the thought of it. It's physically grotesque and impossible, and he's angry with himself, but something about how Harry would want that with him gets him closer to coming way fast. 

The combination of Harry's talents, his excruciatingly devoted stare, and Niall's own humiliating emotions is what gets him off Harry ruts into Niall's fist slow and steady and comes all over his fingers not much later. 

"Want some?" Harry says, running his fingers through the jizz gathered on Niall's stomach. He sucks it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and finally closing his eyes. Niall's back arches involuntarily at the sight, and he almost feels sorry he didn't take Harry up on his original dick-sucking offer. But they're both taken care of now, and there's steaks to be had. 

"No, thanks," Niall says. 

~*~ 

Harry's tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth while he's cutting his steak into bite-sized pieces like he's preparing a plate for a toddler rather than himself,

"Are you going to eat that or are you just going to mangle it?" Niall says. He's halfway through his steak and he's regretting not cooking sixteen more. 

"If there's anything I've learned here in Los Angeles, Niall, it's that meat is murder," Harry says, wagging a tiny bite in Niall's direction to admonish him. "I am speaking silent prayers over this meat before consuming it." 

"You say that to me, a butcher's son," Niall says. "You're mad." 

"Have you slept with anyone else while we've been apart?" Harry says, so suddenly and so geninely that Niall has to train his face to look blank instead of mortified. 

"Yeah, I fucked Tiger Woods," Niall says, casual enough that it's obvious he hasn't done anything with anyone. 

"You _are_ his type," Harry says. A pause, then, "I haven't either. I guess I got used to just like, sleeping with you." 

"You've grown accustomed to my ass," Niall breaks into song. On the second word, Harry joins him effortlessly word for word, kind of like then they were jerking each other off. 

"My fair Nialler," Harry says. He cups Niall's face from across the table tenderly and gazes at him. He takes a bite, finally. 

"Well?" Niall says. 

"It's good," Harry says. Then his eyes disappear into his cheeks as he laughs, ducking his head. "Really, really good. I've missed it so much." 

"It's no room-temperature water with half a lemon squeezed into it," Niall says. He wonders if he's a metaphor for steak in Harry's mind, then wonders no more, because he knows he is. 

"No, but it's still good," Harry says.


End file.
